


Picking at Scabs

by Lkw88



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 10:40:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15362763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lkw88/pseuds/Lkw88
Summary: This follows on directly from the hug which takes place during the 12th of July episode, after Charity returns from the dentist.





	Picking at Scabs

**Author's Note:**

> After a decade long hiatus from writing, this is my attempt at tentatively dipping my toe back into the water, so to speak. Any comments or constructive criticism would be very much appreciated.

''You're going to make a big deal out of that, aren't you?'' Vanessa says, as she releases her hold and pulls back from the hug with a slight nod towards Charity's increasingly swollen mouth, adopting a half concerned, half knowing look.

''Well, you know me, babe. When do I ever miss an opportunity to make a big deal out of anything?'' Charity tilts her head up, tries to fill every syllable with a stubborn and casually unashamed pride, like she always has done.

She might not have been proud of many things in her life. But her ability to grasp on to whatever small opportunity she'd been presented with and turn it into something which can benefit her? She's learnt to be good at that. A bloody pro, even.

She'd clung onto it with such ferocity when she'd been on the streets, used it as a survival technique just to get through one day to the next. Always tried to be one step ahead of anyone and everyone around her.

_You can take the homeless prostitute out of the gutter, but you can't take the gutter out of the homeless prostitute, she'd often thought to herself, long after she'd left the streets behind._

It was an excuse, a mantra which she'd said to herself time and time again over the decades. A way of justifying all the spite and the bile and the anger which spewed out of her every time she'd seen an opportunity to scheme and lie, to prove her strength to all the sour faced pricks who thought they were better than her, to pick at their flaws like a scab she refused to let them heal from (Because no-one had ever let _her_ heal, had they? So why should _she_ let _them?)_

It was all she'd had back then. And sometimes, it was all she felt she had now.

Except now, it doesn't fill her with the same pride it once did. The hurt, the disappointment she saw in the faces of those people no longer made her pat herself on the back, thinking _Good. That's only a fraction of what I've been through._

It was a temporary respite, of course. She'd taken pleasure in seeing Megan squirm as she gleefully stood behind the bar ( _her_ bar, she reminds herself frequently, because what else has she accomplished in life aside from that?) But rather than filling her up with pride, with a smug self-satisfaction, it left her empty and desperate and searching once again to fill herself up with something, anything.

''You don't have to tell _me_ that.'' Vanessa replies, nodding to Charity's swollen mouth again and jarring Charity back to the present moment as she gently ( _far more gently than she deserves,_ Charity thinks to herself) runs her fingers down Charity's arms. ''Or my dad, for that matter.''

''I know, okay? I've already said I'm a bad person.'' Charity's tone is defensive. She knows it is.

She takes a step back, feeling her survival instinct kick in and the familiar urge to sabotage flowing through every fibre of her being. It's almost an art form, she thinks, how she can go from being so bloody sincere one minute, to wanting to unapologetically destroy everything in her path the next.

''You're not, though. Charity, you're _not._ '' Vanessa looks at her as though she believes it. (Because she _does_ , Charity realises.)

And when Vanessa's hands reach out for her own, Charity doesn't pull away. Doesn't go off to find her answers at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol which tastes as just as sour as she feels.

''But you can't keep reverting back to your old habits every time life kicks you in the teeth again, Charity. And I know it _has_ kicked you in the teeth. So many times. Times which you didn't deserve and had no control over. But, Charity, you _have_ control over your life now.''

She knows Vanessa is right, and it scares the shit out of her. Because Charity knows how to be a scheming bitch. Knows how to pretend to revel in the scandal of being a former prostitute. Knows how to deal with all the glances, and the whispers, and the disdain. Knows how to pick at the scabs of everyone around her (and her own scabs, for that matter) until they bleed all over any blank, untainted canvas she's ever been gifted with.

But she doesn't know how to deal with _this_. With not wanting any of that any more. With just wanting to move on from it and be a mother, and a grandmother, and a landlady, and just _her_. And she certainly doesn't know how to be a girlfriend. Not a good one, anyway.

Yet Vanessa is still here, even despite everything (or maybe _because_ of everything) looking at Charity as though she knows something she doesn't. As though she _sees_ something Charity doesn't.

''Well, I could have done without the reference to teeth, babe. Bit of a low blow, yeah, given my current predicament.'' Charity gestures to her mouth, laughing half-heartedly as she glances up at Vanessa with a smirk which fades once she sees the increasingly familiar look of determination on Vanessa's face. A look which says _I know you far too well to let you pull this sarcastic shit with me right now_.

Vanessa's hands gently clasp her own, her thumbs delicately tracing intricate patterns over the knuckles which Charity has so frequently painted with the bruises of her past mistakes.

''I know you've always got one hand hovering over that self destruct button, daring the world to give you a reason, _any_ reason for you to press it, so you can obliterate everything good in your life and wallow in the misery you think you deserve. But you _don't_ deserve it, Charity.''

Charity shakes her head, swallows down the urge to argue. She's spent her whole life at war, it feels like. At war with herself and at war with anyone who has dared to well-meaningly venture into the barren no-man's-land she's spitefully, ferociously constructed around herself.

Except now, with Vanessa in her life looking at her as though she's worth so much more than she has ever realised, than _anyone_ has ever realised, Charity feels like this isn't a war. It doesn't _have_ to be a war.

She can fight, though. Fight with everything she has for everything good in her life. Like her kids, and her grandchild, and her family, and her relationship with Vanessa. For Ryan, and maybe, she thinks, even for herself. For all the canvasses which she hasn't completely, irreparably tainted with the dirty red blood of a thousand scabs she's picked in defiance.

But a fight doesn't have to be a war. A fight can be a resilient, steely determination to grasp on to everything she's ever cared about and not let it go until the last gasp of oxygen leaves her lungs. A fight doesn't have to mean obliterating everything and everyone in her path, or setting fire to the whole world to pay it back for scorching her so many times.

''You really are amazing, you know?'' Charity reaches out, places a tentative hand under Vanessa's chin as she says it so she can convey with her eyes what she's usually so utterly incapable of conveying with her words. ''And I'm sorr-''

''I know you are.'' Vanessa interrupts. ''And I'm not going to pretend that I'm not still hurt, or mad. But this isn't worth ruining us over, is it?'' 

''No, it's not.'' Charity pauses. Finds herself looking down at the concrete beneath her feet.

‘’And it’s not worth ruining _you_ over either.’’ The gentleness of Vanessa’s voice is enough to draw Charity’s eyes back up, away from the cold, unforgiving concrete and into a tempting yet increasingly familiar warmth which she’s found herself being bathed in so frequently as of late.

''Do you want to stop at mine tonight?'' Charity blurts out. She's not entirely sure if it's the painkillers, or the emotional exhaustion, but she knows she feels like she's been hit by a steamroller and wants nothing more than to cling on to that warmth for however long it’s being so selflessly offered to her.

''Am I going to have to listen to you whinge about your tooth all night?'' Vanessa raises her eyebrows, a slight smirk on her face, and Charity wonders how the hell Vanessa always knows exactly just how much emotion Charity can take before she needs to, at least temporarily, revert back to her usual tried and tested method of sarcasm and sulking.

''Not _all_ night.'' Charity pouts petulantly, rolling her eyes. ''I reckon these painkillers will knock me out at some point.''

''Great. Maybe I should get in touch with your dentist. See if he can give you a repeat prescription. Might come in handy, y'know, when you're being a complete pain in the ars..''

''Oi, I'm fragile over here!'' Charity throws her hands up melodramatically, taking a few seconds to adopt her classic look of nonchalance before (hopefully) casually adding '' So, are you stopping at mine or what?''

Vanessa pauses for a second, cocking her head to one side in mock contemplation before she flashes Charity a smile. _That smile_ . The one which silently tells Charity she's a nightmare, and a dream, and all the complexities in between, but she wouldn't have her any other way.

'' _Fine_.‘’ Vanessa rolls her eyes. ‘’But at least make me a cuppa before I have to listen to your whinging, yeah?'' 

''Of course, babe. Perfect hostess, me, y'know? You can have anything you want.''

_I'll give you anything you want_ , Charity thinks, as Vanessa intertwines their hands together.

''That's going to scab over, you know?'' Vanessa says, pensively glancing at the graze on Charity's upper lip. ‘’Looks like it’s already started to, actually.’’

_Bloody concrete_ , Charity thinks, as she remembers the burn of skidding face first into the bins.

''Teach you that in vet school, did they?'' Charity smirks.

''Maybe.'' Vanessa smiles brightly, instinctively reaching her hand out towards the graze before catching herself, her arm dropping by her side. ''I'll go out and get you some Savlon for it in the morning. Just don’t pick at it before I do, yeah? You’ll just make it worse if you don’t give it time to heal.'

‘’I’ll let it heal.’’ Charity replies determinedly, reaching out for Vanessa‘s hand. ‘’ _I promise_.’’


End file.
